‘Oh, Aunt Mary, it is what Uncle Frank and you are—that—makes one feel—’
Ida could say no more. She once saw Michael’s bright boyish face awed into pity, and had the kiss that sealed her earthly pardon, unconscious as he was of the evil she had attempted. There was the pledge of higher pardon, before her uncle and aunt left her to those nearer who could minister to her as she went down to the River ever flowing.
Before that time, however, Herbert had made known to Rose one of his great reasons for settling in Canada, namely, that he meant to take her back with him. He had told his uncle long ago, and Mrs. Alder was quite ready and eager to welcome her as a cousin. Even Mr. Rollstone could hardly have objected under these circumstances, and Rose only doubted about leaving her mother. It presently appeared, however, that Mrs. Morton wished to remain with Mrs. Rollstone. Westhaven was more to her than any other place, and her vanity had so entirely departed that she could best take comfort in her good old friend’s congenial society. Constance offered to remain and obtain some daily governess or high school employment there; but it was to her relief that she found that the two old ladies did not wish it. There was a sense that her tastes and habits were so unlike theirs that they would always feel her to be like company and be on their best behaviour, and decidedly her mother would not ‘stand in her light,’ and would be best contented with visits from her and to Northmoor.
So, after the quietest of weddings in the beautiful
St. James’s Church, Herbert and Rose went out to be welcomed at Winnipeg, and Constance returned with her uncle to be a daughter to Aunt Mary—till such time as she was sought by the young Vicar of Northmoor.
the end.
